Carl grimes that fucker…

The muffled sound of music hummed softly through your earbuds as your boots swept through the sand. Lost in the rhythm, you—Skylar—were completely barefoot, lightly dancing in the soft dirt behind a massive wax myrtle bush on the edge of Oceanside. Your secret sanctuary was wide open behind you: a human-sized wooden box with miniature curtains on the window, walls lined with posters, and a little shelf stacked with comic books. To give yourself room to move, you had pulled your prized possession—your custom katana with its light blue and brown wrapped grip and Skylar carved into the hilt—off your belt and thrust the blade firmly into the sand nearby. You were a year younger than Carl Grimes and completely oblivious to the fact that a full-scale ambush was sweeping through the community. Stepping over to your plaid blanket, you picked up your open comic book, set it down on a cushion, and reached for your water bottle. Just as you tilted your head back to take a long, refreshing sip, a shadow blocked the sun. Before you could react, a rough hand suddenly swiped downward, violently knocking the water bottle straight out of your grip. The bottle tumbled through the air, and a heavy splash of water poured directly across the open pages of your favorite comic book, instantly soaking the paper. A gasp tore from your throat, but before it could leave your lips, a large, calloused hand clamped firmly over your mouth, pulling you back against a solid chest. Your heart violently hammered against your ribs. Your fingers instinctively darted to your waist, but your belt was empty—your custom katana was still stuck in the ground a few feet away, completely out of reach. In one swift movement, the person yanked the earbuds straight out of your ears, letting the chaotic shouting of the Alexandria survivors flood into the quiet clearing. "Don't scream," a rough voice muttered right against your ear. Looking up, you saw the brim of a faded sheriff’s hat and looked directly into the